The Ides of August
by MalbecMalcontent
Summary: Lizzington Fluff in six parts. Can be read as conclusion to "Fine Feathers." Rated T for now, but will do my best to reach M in later chapters, and will then change the rating accordingly.
1. Chapter 1

AN: So this can be read as a two/three part one-shot (yeah I know, but that's what it ended up being – sue me) or as the long awaited conclusion to "Fine Feathers." The other story is rated T and is considerably longer. Due to popular demand, here is a bit of Lizzington fluff. This my first attempt to write something of a slightly more mature nature, so please be kind.

AN 2: AU – Tom is GONE, more due to the distance growing between them. No Tom Bond - stuff here.

OoooooooO

The Ides of August

The Post Office was a place of humid irritation. Lizzie wondered if the "Ides of March" would more be better utilized as the "Ides of August." One could feel the sense of foreboding and treachery on the skin, and the air was thick with doom.

Lizzie laughed to herself as she sorted though the Everest of paperwork on her desk. Lately she had been reading Shakespearian plays before bed each night to wind down, though Julius Caesar might have been an ironic choice, given her day job.

Her world was full of those who would follow Brutus.

Still, she found comfort in plays for some reason. It helped her achieve some distance from the tragedies she saw every day. A bead of sweat that originated somewhere underneath her ponytail began its foray down her neck, her spine, terminating in the waistband of her inexpensive poly-blend trousers_. My God, what a week for the air conditioning to go out. And of course_, she thought _wryly, because this is a black site, it will take days to vet a team to come in to fix it. I don't understand how it can get so hot underground!_

She rested her head on the nearest pile for the moment, and did her best to think thoughts of an arctic nature. It was in that position that Red found her, several hours later.

While his initial instinct was to let her sleep, as they'd been running all over the country chasing Blacklisters, he knew that she'd be better off at home.

He softly called, "Lizzie?" trying not to scare her. Liz slowly lifted her head upright and opened her eyes, gradually focusing on Red. As always he was resplendent, even in this heat. His cream summer weight suit seemed freshly pressed and his brow was dry. She moved her head from side to side, in trying to loosen the giant knot lodged where her neck met her shoulders.

"Hi Red. What can I do for you?" She attempted to be polite, when in reality she just wanted to crawl under her desk and assume the fetal position. It wasn't a terrible idea, but for the fact that she'd likely bake in there. Her tiny desk fan wouldn't reach that far.

Lizzie chafed the back of her neck, wincing as she regarded the man before her expectantly.

"Lizzie, you were slack-jawed and snoring on your desk. I think the more appropriate question would be – is there anything I can do for you?" Red wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

She laughed, as he intended. Massaging her forehead, she blew the wispy pieces of hair that fell into her eyes.

Distracted, she mumbled, "I have got to cut my hair. This is getting ridiculous."

Red examined her critically, and bit the side of his lip. "It's not ridiculous, merely a bit heavy looking. I know a young lady who is a complete artist with hair and I'm sure we can squeeze you in about an hour, if you're game."

Lizzie rubbed her eyes and blinked owlishly, "We already did this Red, remember. The whole 'My Fair Lady' / 'Pretty Woman' trip. It was absolutely lovely, but I'm not quite ready for a repeat."

She was incredibly tired, and after the last few weeks of chasing criminals, finalizing her divorce and occasionally drowning her guilt in Nutella and trashy television, kind of tapped out. While she felt like ending things with Tom was the right thing to do, she still felt like she ought to be mourning the relationship. To be honest, she felt guiltier about not feeling guilty. It was all very tiring to think about.

The other wearying item she had been dealing with presently stood before her. After their unspoken agreement that fateful Saturday, he had been completely appropriate; shocking her with a clear lack of entendres, casual touches and meaningful glances. Time and distance had made her question if anything had even happened that day. Thankfully, the embarrassing amount of clothes delivered to her new apartment said otherwise.

Red smirked, "Well in that case, how do you feel about a little recon? And before you protest, it actually has nothing to do with my little index. I simply desire to visit a new supper club, and I also desire the company of a lovely woman. Also, I think it would be beneficial for you. You need a night off."

Lizzie considered the man before her. That invitation was incredibly blatant and familiar, after a few months of establishing very stringent boundaries. This appeared to be an overture, but she had a hard time believing things would change so quickly. _Stop it! You're overanalyzing again. Isn't this what you want? And besides, even if things have cooled between you, he's still the most interesting person you know._

Lizzie beamed, "I'd love to. Just let me go back home, shower and change. Would 8:00 suit?"

Red rubbed his hands together. He nodded and as Lizzie brushed past him, leaned in and murmured, "One request, sweetheart. Do you think you can indulge me and wear the orchid dress?"

She looked back, over her shoulder, "That could be arranged."

He nodded," Splendid!"

OoooooooooO

Lizzie quickly completed the necessary ablutions, only lingering in the shower for a moment, enjoying the feel of cool water removing the remaining sweat on her back.

She tried to manage her expectations for the evening, as she applied some evening make-up, braiding and twisting her hair in a secure, low knot. She cursed as the awkward bangs returned to their place in front of her eyes, and resigned herself to repeatedly trying to tuck them behind her ears. She put on a pair of understated pearl earrings and a matching bracelet.

After donning a lovely nude brassier and under things, she stood in front of her closet door, gazing upon the matchless garment. It was a vaguely Greek style, one shouldered, and light, in the most gorgeous orchid colored charmeuse. The style was elegant, the fit striking and the shade arresting. Lizzie could barely contain her enthusiasm. An unfortunate part of her conscious tried to mock her for acting like such a child about a pretty dress, but was quickly silenced by the intense pleasure she felt as it slipped over her body. After slipping on a pair of heels, she was content to slowly twirl in front of her mirror, to savor the joy of the moment.

She winked at her reflection, rosy cheeked and excited. Her buzzer sounded. Lizzie had a strange feeling, and the only thing that resounded in her thoughts was, "Your fate has arrived." She dismissed the errant notion as another product of her nightcap of Shakespeare and strode to the intercom. After greeting Red, she told her she'd meet him downstairs.

OoooooooooO

Red lingered in the lobby. He approved of the building; it was exceptionally secure and well appointed. If he was inclined to stay anywhere for more then two nights, he would seriously consider this place as an option.

He chuckled. Considering he already owned an apartment here, he supposed renting another would be a bit gratuitous. And if he had his way, he would never be forced to stay her alone. He had justified the anonymous purchase of the property easily, as Lizzie would be unable to afford it on her paltry government salary. Then it was a simple matter to hand her a classified section after dropping a few hints.

After an enthusiastic tour, she was thrilled with the roomy, airy space and immediately put down a deposit. Thus, Red found himself to be Lizzie's landlord, a revelation he hoped she would never stumble upon.

Red paced the marble floors, watching as the elevator slowly descended from Lizzie's floor. He had changed from his day suit, to a garment more appropriate for a formal summer evening.

As the elevator door silently slid open, Red fought an urge to gasp. It was a testament to Lizzie's beauty that his breathe could be taken away even after he'd already seen the dress.

She fairly bounced over to him, glorious, glowing with satisfaction. He was beyond pleased that she fulfilled his request in wearing this particular dress.

He executed a courtly bow, took her hand and kissed it. Straightening, he tucked her hand under his arm. He bent his head towards her, "The measure done, I'll watch her place of stand, And, touching hers, make blessed my rude hand. Did my heart love till now? forswear it, sight! For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night."

She blushed in pleasure. "Red, I'm no Juliet, but I thank you all the same."

Red pursed his lips for a moment, "No, you're much more of a Beatrice, darling – feisty, intelligent and strong. You're no lovelorn teenager. But the sentiment is still fitting. Shall we?"

She laughed, "I would say, 'Lead on, MacDuff,' but I think quoting Shakespeare at each other for the rest of the evening will become a bit hackneyed."

Red chuckled, and led Lizzie out to the waiting Mercedes.


	2. Chapter 2

AN: More plot, I can't help it. I am incapable of writing a romantic one-shot. Someday, there will be lemons. Today is not that day. The supper club mentioned "Thelony" is a mashup of a few supper clubs and jazz clubs near me. Both dishes mentioned are real, if known by other names and are AMAZING. Please read and review, I need your faith to move on to the next bit. (Eeeeek)

I own nothing of the Blacklist or of any or Mr. L. Carroll's works. Pity.

OooooooooooO

The car trip went quickly, with Red's arm extended along the back seat, his thumb moving like a metronome on her shoulder. She laughed inwardly, as the rhythm was just about a half count slower then the pounding of her heart.

The car slowed to a stop, and in an instant, Dembe was opening the door for her exit.

She smiled and thanked the stoic bodyguard, while taking in the surrounding neighborhood. In the last gasps of twilight, she could deduce that most people would try to avoid this street after dark. The street was desolate, but for a few convenience stores kitted out in bulletproof glass and some chancy drinking establishments lit by neon advertisements.

Directly in front of her was a brick building, windowless from the front. A small wooden sign bearing the word "Thelony" hung over the door.

Red stroked the small of her back, and ushered her into what appeared to be a cozy and chic bar. Patrons were clad in various types of cocktail attire, classy and understated. There was even a tuxedo or two, though it appeared to be more like a uniform then dress attire.

The host, debonair in his suit, greeted Red and gave Lizzie a welcoming smile.

"We have your requested table ready, Sir. If you would just follow me?" He strode to the back of the room, and started down the hallway. Lizzie stopped; confused as all there was around her were coats on hangers and a large full length mirror. The host looked back at her and smiled. He reached up his hand and hit a button on the wall. The mirrored wall slid open, revealing a richly paneled, candlelit room.

She grinned and looked at Red over her shoulder. "Through the looking-glass, Red? I though we were finished with the literary references for the evening?" She sat down and took in the elaborately carved space.

Red smirked, "What can I say that hasn't been said in a better way, by someone else? I thought we just agreed on eschewing Shakespeare. We have the remainder of English prose to cover."

Lizzie arched a brow as they were seated at one of the four tables, across from a shining grand piano. "Just as long as their aren't any 'Eat Me' or 'Drink Me' signs anywhere." She looked around in mock anxiety. "I think that might be a bit much for me."

Red recaptured her hand between his, and began to stroke her wrist in the way he did so many Saturdays ago, in that little Italian place. "Oh Lizzie," he sighed, '"You used to be much more...muchier. You've lost your muchness.'"

Lizzie giggled, slightly giddy with excitement and hunger, recognizing the line from Carroll's works. "I think you will find I'm 'much' enough for you, my dear Mad Hatter."

He laughed again, "I think that's a fantastic comparison, Lizzie. One of the many reasons to appreciate your company; you're not just a beautiful face and a perfect figure. Have no fear, you are much enough for me."

A warm silence settled between them and a waiter came with a champagne and seau. They exchanged measured, pleased gazes over their glasses as they drank. Lizzie knew that she would need something to eat soon, or she might pass out from the cocktail of alcohol, excitement, and exhaustion.

She took a moment to review the room. Warm, private, inviting, with a grand carved bar that extended across one side of the room and large French doors that led out to a stone terrace. While they were bantering, a gentleman entered the room and began to play a soft melody on the piano.

She turned back to Red, "So this place, Thelony? I was under the impression that you hadn't been here before, but the host clearly knew you."

Red nodded. "I was familiar with it under the previous owner. It's a fascinating place. Originally, it was a speakeasy in the back of a tailor's shop. That's why the mirror wall was there in the first place. It fell into disrepair in the 60's, and served a variety of purposes during the next forty years. The host's brother bought the place around ten years ago, tried to make it into a 'hardcore' bar. I had the misfortune of meeting a client here several years ago, and was saddened that such an interesting place was being misused. The host, whose name is Xavier, formerly worked behind the bar. We developed a friendship of sorts, and he sent me a message when he bought the bar and renovated it into its current incarnation. I'm so pleased that it's been returned to its former glory. It's very popular with the orchestra crowd, including the musicians. The men dressed in tuxes out in the common room are all first chair violinists.'

He took another sip of his champagne, rolling it over his tongue, and continued. "They have a few private rooms, actually. There's another accessed though the ladies powder room and another through a trapdoor behind the bar."

"So do we have this room all to ourselves, then? Should I be worried about your intentions, Red? You are a known criminal, after all." She pursed her lips, falsely prim.

"Oh Lizzie, my intentions are for you to enjoy yourself, and for me to spend some quality time with an attractive, intelligent lady." He huffed and licked his lips. "The details of how that time is spent? Well, I believe for once, I'll let you lead."

Lizzie was saved from responding by the waiter coming to take their order. Red, presumptuous as always, ordered for them both. Honesty, she didn't mind.

Red proceeded to entertain her with a bon mot about each of her co-workers, including his impression of "wounded, brooding Ressler," which was spot on, and had Lizzie erupting in a fit of raucous laughter. She covered her mouth, trying to regain her composure.

OoooooooooooO

He was spellbound. It was so rare to see Lizzie uninhibited and so lively. If he hadn't known she had only one glass of champagne and half of a glass of wine so far, he would have thought she was tipsy.

Red tried to absorb this moment, to capture the sight of her eyes sparkling, skin glowing in the candlelight, rosy-cheeks, trying to calm herself. He was not a man to believe much in luck, but in truth, he felt like a poor man who had gambled his last dime and somehow, won the jackpot.

It was a heady sensation, and he reminded himself that this was a work in progress. There was no guarantees here, he must not take anything for granted or make too many assumptions.

She had calmed, the remnants of glee still rippling over her face. She gave him another open, inclusive smile.

The waiter soundlessly approached and set down two plates.

Red gestured to the entrée'; "I skipped the preliminaries for this meal, Lizzie. I surmise that you're famished. I hope you don't mind. All of their dishes here involve some sort of spirit. This particular dish, called the Saibhir Dubliner, has fresh lobster sautéed in a mild cayenne butter cream sauce, mushrooms, shallots and Irish whiskey. Xavier assured me it's one of their best."

They sampled it at the same time. Red was pleased with the complexity of the sauce, which still let the sweet flavor of the lobster shine through. It was served with crunchy jasmine rice that cut the richness of the cream sauce. They consumed their meal in relative silence, occasional catching each other's eyes and enjoying the beautiful music surrounded them.

Red was pleased with the stage he'd set. It wasn't that he intended to seduce her immediately…Lizzie was not some hussy to be won over for an evening. If anything, he was trying to woo her back into the level of comfort they shared before that Saturday. He had tried his best to keep her distance as she handled her affairs with Tom, and for some time after, so she could work through any lingering issues.

He wanted to be completely certain that whatever kind of interaction they embarked on would be free of any doubt or the shadow of Tom. He also felt a childlike desire to please her, to sweep her off her feet.

Red's attention returned to the present. Lizzie was trying to covertly scrape her plate clean. He made a mental note to feed her more, as she often neglected to eat during a complicated case or while on assignment. He chuckled, imagining that she'd try to lick the plate if she wasn't in public.

OoooooooO

Lizzie returned her gaze to her dining companion, slightly abashed. She suppressed a desire to run her finger around the lip of the plate to catch the last traces of the cream sauce. _They could at least have served it with bread. Seems like a sin to let it go to waste._

Red was smiling indulgently, "Sweetheart, you were famished! I hope you saved a little room for dessert. I've been advised that their chocolate raspberry crème brulee is amazing. Would you care to try it?" She nodded her assent, and in moments, a sizable ramekin was set between them.

Red gestured for her to take the first bite. She leaned over and gently tapped the caramelized sugar with her spoon. With a crack, it gave way to luscious looking crème.

She scooped up a piece of the brulee and custard and put it to her tongue. It was sweet, decadent silk. Her taste buds were lying down and dying with pleasure. Her mind flat lined for a moment, and before she could help herself, she let out a little moan of rapture. She opened her eyes to Red watching her with disconcerting interest, lips slightly parted. He ran his tongue over his teeth and looked…hungry.

She was reasonably certain that it wasn't for food, but gently shoved dessert towards him.

He spooned some of the crème into his mouth and also shut his eyes, humming his approval. Taking another bite, he almost smacked his lips and said, "My, that is fantastic. This dish is typically overdone and often a bit eggy, but the consistency and subtle flavor is supurb. I can certainly see why it would get you all hot and bothered." The last observation was delivered absentmindedly.

Lizzie refused to rise to his bait, and they proceeded to decimate the custard, occasionally fighting each other for a bite, with soft, lighthearted laughter.

After the final plates were cleared, and two glasses of Moscato D'Asti were poured, Red gestured to the terrace. "Would you care to get a little air, Lizzie?"

She looked at him with wide eyes. She knew that this moment of solitude would come, but she hadn't yet fully prepared herself for it. They weren't often alone, and hardly ever without some semblance of propriety offered by Blacklist complications. It wouldn't do to pursue each other while some deranged criminal was trying to release Anthrax or take a little girl hostage.

She exhaled, and stood, picking up her glass. She followed him out to an intimate, walled-in garden. The air still held the remnants of humidity, but it was not uncomfortable. A small fountain stood in the center, and the walls were covered with succulents and ferns.

She traveled the length of the garden, and settled down on a small bench at the end. She looked up into the boughs of two large trees that canopied the space, making out the few pinpoints of light that shone through the swaying branches. It was nice to be at peace, even with certain possibilities lingering on the horizon.

She heard Red moving slowly towards her, and in that instant, felt resolved as to how she wanted the night to progress. Now that she was reassured of his interest, Lizzie thought that they could forgo the games. She was ready to move forward, after being stagnant for so long.

She was surprised that she felt an absence of nerves and mentally shrugged. Taking a sip of her wine, she sighed and returned to enjoying the atmosphere. When Red cleared his throat softly and sat next to her, she shifted her weight until she was almost leaning into him. He looked surprised.

Her voice was wry and mellow when she spoke. "Red, I just wanted to thank you for this night of respite. I really needed it. The food was delicious, the company interesting and I was thrilled to finally have somewhere to wear this dress."

Red seemed unsure as to how to respond. She remembered what he'd said about her taking the lead.

She rose to stand before him. After placing her hands on his shoulders, she whispered, "You've flattered, fed and entertained me. But I confess, I found the evening sorely lacking in one respect." Red glanced up in cheerful suspicion.

"And what would that be, dear? Gun battles and injuries? Terrorism? I can arrange a taste of all of those things, as you well know. But I believe I know what you're hinting that…of course, I wouldn't want to presume Lizzie, so perhaps you'll have to conf…"

His next words were silenced after Lizzie made an irritated sigh and bent down to grab the nape of his neck. She pulled him forward, sealing his frustrating mouth with a kiss. It was fairly chaste, but also firm and resolved. She removed and returned her lips twice, stepping back to observe his face.

He gaped for a fraction of a second, and then he was standing and pulling her back to him. He lightly kissed both sides of her smiling mouth, and tucked her errant bangs behind her ear. He pulled back, thoughtful, in front of her. He tugged down her hands, which were crossed over her chest, and regarded her fingers.

Red started to speak, cleared his throat, and then exhaled. "Lizzie, my Lizzie. I hope I'm correct in assuming we've finished skating around whatever _this_ is between us. Although I'm not a man who enjoys being vulnerable, I feel like I owe you some honesty about the strength of my…regard for you. You deserve to make an informed decision about where our…interactions might lead."

He paused again, looking slightly distressed. "Lizzie, you have to know…my world was a cold and colorless place without you in it. This last year, I have been overwhelmed with feelings that I never contemplated having again. I want to make certain we are in the same place. The potential of the next few hours weigh heavily on my heart, and I know that this will change our relationship." He turned up her hands and traced his thumbs over her palms.

"I also know that you feel something towards me, but am uncertain if it's just desire or something more." He paused and shook his head, as if to clear it. "I think you feel something more, but I need to hear it. You need to hear yourself say it."

Lizzie's tongue suddenly became cumbersome with her unspoken confession and the nerves she had not felt, suddenly fell on her with a vengeance.. She forced her lips to part, forced the words to exit. "Red," she licked her lips, swallowed, and started again. "Raymond." She took one of her hands out of his, and raised it to his chin, moving his eyes to meet hers.

"You have no reason to wonder where my heart lies. In fact, I should be insulted that you didn't notice." The words came easier now, alive with emotion.

Red raised a quizzical brow.

"It's with you, Red. You have it. You have my heart." Her hand caressed his chin, up his jawbone and cupped his cheek.

Lizzie was rewarded with one of his true smiles, honest like daylight. She continued, "I realize our continued professional interactions may be compromised, but we've waited long enough. I want you, Red. Of that you can be certain."

His hand rose to press hers on his cheek. While he was overwhelmed with emotion, it was quickly transitioning desire, all the passion he kept in check over the last few months.

Lizzie again pulled Red close, looked into him, deeply, examining the facets of his character. The complex, conflicted criminal. The once-husband, once-father, once military man. Her Red…Raymond. Whatever else he had done, however else he could be defined, he was hers.

She smirked, almost into his lips, whispering, "You'll never get away from me now, Raymond Reddington. So please, refrain from running. If you try, I'll shoot out your kneecaps." With that, she pressed herself against him, from mouth to knees, sealing the quiet promise.

His arms snapped around her forcefully, like a tripped snare. She couldn't tell if she was more breathless from the force constricting her lungs or the lust running through her. Lizzie found she didn't really care.

Her fingers moved to the back of his neck and traced down his spine forcefully, pressing them in. His back arched slightly in response, and Red moved into her body even closer. She swallowed his moan as she reached down to vigorously pull his hips to hers, leaving no question as to her intention.

Red pulled back for a second, his intense delight blatant in his expression. He chuckled. "Not that I ever doubted it Lizzie, but I will reiterate, we're going to make a great team."

She smiled, kissed him again, savoring the lovely softness of his lips, a study in contrast from the hardened man. Lizzie released him, and began to saunter back to the French doors.

She shot a heated glance over her shoulder and murmured, "Perhaps we should return to my place? I have it on good opinion that this dress will disappear around midnight, and I would like to limit any possible witnesses."

She continued back into the dining room, confident that Red would follow.


	3. Chapter 3

AN: I wanted to give you a little fluff to offset the angst of my other fic. Please let me know if you like it!

I own NO part of the Blacklist. Tragic.

OoooooooooooO

The car ride to Lizzie's apartment was quiet, the only sound for the couple in the back seat was the rhythmic rush of blood to their ears (and other extremities). Their bodies were almost seamless in their connection; shoulders, sides, hips, knees. Red held her hand with their fingers entwined.

They both used the trip to gather their thoughts, looking out their respective windows.

When they arrived, Lizzie was handed out of the car by Dembe, and looked back into the car where Red waited, perhaps requiring one last confirmation. Lizzie arched her eyebrow and cocked her head to the side.

Red chuckled and exited the vehicle with smooth grace.

As Liz walked to the entry of the building, she heard Red say quietly, "Take the night, Dembe. It appears Lizzie requires my presence for a bit longer. I'll give you a call tomorrow."

Lizzie turned, hand on hip, feeling bold. "Dembe!" she called out, "Don't plan on anything until at least...3:00 or so. I need Red's assistance with some very…pressing matters."

She attempted valiantly to deliver the last line with aplomb, but failed miserably.

The three all laughed, knowingly. Dembe, in a rare sign of familiarity, patted Red on the shoulder and glanced at them both.

"Please try to stay out of trouble, you two. I'll see you tomorrow." He grinned and returned to the drivers seat.

Red stood there for a second, shaking his head, still smiling. When Lizzie made an impatient gesture, he quickly walked forward and grabbed her hand. They entered the building, said hello to the efficient security officer, and entered a waiting elevator.

Lizzie stood towards the back, as was her custom. Red stood in front of her until the elevator slid shut, and then stepped back and turned around. He ran both hands down her arms, like he was mapping out the lines of her body. His mouth quirked.

Lizzie laughed again, "What is it? You look amused." Red bit his lip and smirked.

"While this was one of the possible outcomes for this evening, I had no idea it was remotely probable. This scenario was relegated to my fondest and most inappropriate dreams."

Lizzie looked at Red more closely, noticing a strange expression residing on his face, particularly around his eyes. She stared, fascinated. Raymond Reddington, was…bashful? _No, he can't be. I'm not going to mention it now, but I will file it away for reflection later…and maybe blackmail. I'm sure he would appreciate my methods._

"Why Raymond," she all but purred, "You've been having _thoughts_ about me? _After-hours _thoughts? Dare I say, _intimate_ thoughts?" She grabbed his lapel and pulled him closer to her. She nuzzled his cheek, once, twice and then moved over to his ear. She shocked even herself with her next words.

"Please tell me about these thoughts," she swallowed, her voice growing thick with desire. "I'd like to compare them with mine. You see, _sweetheart, _I've been having such thoughts about you longer then I can admit. When I first heard you speak, most of my brain was focused on profiling you and caught up in shock at the situation." Her already quiet words became a breathy whisper as she confessed, "But that dark, deep, animalistic part inside of me saw you in those chains, restrained…"

She pulled back, so she could look him in the eye, "And thought, _what kind of man needs chains to hold him back_? And if I'm honest, also, _what would it be like when he truly lost control?_"

She was enthralled by the change in his expression. Red looked shocked, intrigued and then his mouth settled into something Liz could not define. She was attempting to analyze it and the electric sparks it was causing all over her skin when he pushed her against the back wall. If she needed confirmation that her words had effected him, his body gave it.

His hands cupped her back, and then the curves below, gradually increasing pressure and eradicating any personal space. Lizzie's hands found a place scratching at the nape of his neck, silently signaling her need for more.

Red seemed to be out to frustrate her, to contradict her wishes, and displayed perfect, rigid control. His jaw was tight, his demeanor predatory.

Their eyes gaze locked again, and in an exquisite moment of sensual communion, shared each other's breath. Red's mouth descended upon hers with aching slowness. First a closed mouth kiss, then rubbing his lips against hers, back and forth.

He flicked his tongue against her bottom lip and with deliberate intensity, bit down. Lizzie gasped, and tried to maintain contact. He kissed his way up to her ear, and nipped her earlobe.

Red suddenly stood back, and released the emergency stop, smirking. She hadn't even noticed that they weren't moving.

As Lizzie tried to regain her senses, he rubbed his jaw, looking pleased beyond all measure. "Well, Lizzie, we covered part of my elevator fantasy..."

The doors opened on Lizzie's floor. He suddenly grabbed her, sweeping her legs up and carrying her into the hall.

"With one down for me, it's only fair that we work on one of yours." Red continued, blithely. "I do hope to forgo the handcuffs and leg shackles for now, but I promise we'll revisit that particular exciting detail another evening." He chuckled warmly, and Lizzie felt the vibrations of his mirth.

She mutely pointed away as her mind tried to process how the tables had turned.

Red took the keys from her waiting hand, and after opening the door, effortlessly brought her over the threshold.

The vibration of her security door closing with such force would have been deafening in another building, but as hers had been built to such exacting standards, it certainly would have not disturbed her neighbors.

Though, they wouldn't have been much of a problem anyway, considering that Red had taken possession of the apartments on either side of hers.

For safety reasons, of course.

AN: Yeeess, I'm evil. Maybe some reviews will get the next part out faster? Hmmm.


	4. Chapter 4

AN: Dipping my toes in the water here...I own nothing of the Blacklist...

OooooooooooooooooO

Lizzie laughed as Red charged into her apartment.

"Raymond," his name rolled of her tongue, a purr, a promise. "Put me down for a second, I need to lock the door."

Red huffed in annoyance and acquiesced to her request. He leaned against the kitchen door frame, crossing his arms. "And to think I had grand plans of rushing to the bed and ravishing you…I guess I'm not as good as a distraction as I thought."

Lizzie finished locking the door and turned around. She was entranced by the truculent, pouty look on Red's face. _It was truly amazing how this man could change from passionate intensity to sulky frustration in an instant._

She sauntered over to him, laughing. Liz didn't miss how his eyes followed the sway of her hips, nor how he licked his lips in anticipation.

"Oh Raymond, but I thought we agreed…" she loved how his eyelids lowered slightly as she said his name. It was like she was stroking him with her voice, and he couldn't contain his pleasure.

"It's my turn to fulfill a fantasy. So if you would, please go down to the hall to your left, and make yourself comfortable on the chaise next to the bed." She followed him back, and quickly strode over to her dresser to grab a bag out of one of the drawers.

Red sat down, resting his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands.

"I'll just be a moment. I need to, ah, freshen up a bit." She finally blushed a little, amazed that she had been able to sustain the level of bold confidence for the last few hours. She couldn't believe that she was able to do this off the cuff without collapsing with embarrassment.

When she was alone in her on-suite, she quickly stripped, hung up the lovely dress and donned a beautiful lace and silk nightgown from their trip to La Perla those many months ago. The blue matched her eyes perfectly. She kept her hair up, and removed a bit of her heavy eye makeup.

Liz took a moment to assess the lady in the mirror, and finding her acceptable, left the safety of the bathroom to meet Red.

His head rose at the sound of the door opening, and was suddenly incredibly still.

Liz could imagine that he was able to stop everything from moving, his heart from beating. He was almost flat in his immobility, as Red truly came to life in his motions, tics and mannerisms. With an exhalation, he was real again. His arms spread once, only to return to clasping his hands.

Finally he spoke, "Lizzie, even the angels would fall at your feet. My God, you are a miracle of loveliness." The words were murmured, a plea.

Liz padded over to Red, and pulled his head to rest on her stomach, scratching patterns on his head and neck with her nails, enjoying the feeling of his short hair on her palms. He leaned in to her, sighing.

She had no idea how long they maintained their little tableau, and was only aware of an overwhelming feeling of peace, until she felt Red's hands start to stroke up and down from her waist to the sides of her hips. The pressure was firm, and his fingers began to squeeze at the beginning and end of the stroke.

Her desire took the lead again, and she looked down at Red, tipping his chin up.

"Don't you want to know my fantasy, Raymond. Don't you want to know the scenes that have been playing over and over again in my dreams and daydreams? She leaned over slightly, until their foreheads met.

She closed her eyes and moved to slowly rub her cheek against his. She then pushed Red back further on the chaise, and kneeled at his feet. His face was rapt as he watched her slowly unlaced his dress shoes. She ran the nail of one of her fingers down the length of his calf, ankle and instep and felt him hold his breath.

Liz met his gaze, and was seared by the need reflected therein. She arose, and encouraged Red to lay down. Taking a spot on the opposite end of the couch, she took his feet in her lap and began to rub a knuckle up and down the arch of his left foot, increasing pressure on every other stroke. Red positively shivered with pleasure, his toes curling and eyes closing.

As Lizzie's talented thumbs moved to directly under the ball of his foot and pressed in, he moaned in what sounded like a combination of pain an ecstasy. He let her ministrations continue for a while, after she moved to the right foot, until every atom of his body was relaxed, (with the noted exception of one particular area) before he spoke.

"Lizzie, while I find this treatment incredible, both for it's relaxaction benefits and stimulating effects, I fail to see how it's benefiting you at all. Or is this how romantic liaisons are conducted in Nebraska?" He chortled, "That's what keeps the population so small out there!"

Liz swatted his toes and laughed at his noise of displeasure. "If you must know, this was one of my fantasies." She stated, rather primly and smiled at his look of disbelief.

"Yes, I can guess it doesn't seem like the most scintillating thing. Honestly though, what I've desired most in the last few months, from you in particular, is a level of intimacy and comfort that I never knew with Tom. Sure, I want passion, I want to make love, I want you to 'ravish' me. But after that's all done, I want to curl up with you and fall asleep, to wake up wrapped around you, to share coffee at breakfast."

Red was startled at the change in tone for the evening. While he was confident that they were well aware of the mutual attraction and feeling between them, did Lizzie require further reassurance that this wasn't a fling? Or was she trying to give _him _that level of reassurance?

Lizzie regained his full attention as she removed his feet from her lap and shifted to kneel at the end of the chaise. She turned and slowly crept up Red's body, her arms and legs framing him.

She shook her head at his continued look of confusion. "To be honest, Red, I think we both needed a moment to collect ourselves, as I've found that sometimes the intensity can cause an evening's entertainment to be cut sh….umpf!" Lizzie gasped as Red covered her mouth with his own, pulling her down around them.

Red ground out a few phrases between very intense kisses, "Lizzie…you talk and think too much." He kissed and nipped his way down his throat to the tendon between her neck and shoulder. "While I agree taking this evening's extracurricular activities slowly would be fun, if you disparage my endurance again, I shall leave and send you an exorbitant bill for the many hours of therapy I'll require." With that, he licked the tendon and then bit down with firm assurance. Lizzie almost slid off of him, crying out in pleasure.

Eyes closed, she lowered her hips to meet his, and was reassured by the tangible evidence of his interest. She rolled her hips down, and was rewarded with twin sounds of approval from both parties. Red's growl was particularly appealing, and what was left of the functioning area of her brain decided to let any particular plans for the evening go, and to concentrate on making memories instead of fulfilling fantasies.

Red's fingers lightly scratched down her back to grab the curves below, first palming them roughly, and then digging his fingers into the strong muscles there, eliciting another moan and yelp from Lizzie. He felt any remaining self control dissolving as she again ground herself into him. He was caught up in an overwhelming tide of sensation that spread from his groin to every cell. All jokes about stamina aside, he rather thought he'd be lucky to be able to lift his head off the pillow tomorrow if this was just foreplay.

_Jesus, _he gasped internally,_ and what is this, just second base? _

Red resolved to take the lead, as pleasurable as it was to have Lizzie take control, he was unsure about how long said activities would continue. He clasped his hands under her rear and quickly rose, walking them both over to the bed.

AN: Deep breath...SORRY! (Not sorry) Maybe I'll write more quickly with encouragement. (wink)


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